Phantom Romance
by Niham
Summary: Ichigo and Rukia are so misunderstood, all because of a huge rumor. Yet, it’s one giant misunderstanding. Why can’t people just mind their own business? Ichirukia.
1. The Point of Origin

**A/n:** The story takes place several years after the main story line. I thought it might be fun to deal with an older Ichigo, and mess around with the college atmosphere (and let me tell you, college is AWESOME!). We'll just assume that Ichigo and company are still kicking by this time.

I don't own Bleach.

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**ONE:**

**The Point of Origin**

There was gum on his shoes.

"You don't get tired of it?" Rukia asked, sitting beside him on the curve. "Getting beat up, I mean?"

He pulled the gum off the toe of his shoe, stretching the dirty pink blob into a long, sinewy strand. His fingers were still cut and swollen from yesterday's fight. Ichigo shook his head. "Nope."

Rukia watched him thoughtfully. "Not even a little?"

The strand of gum snapped and coiled around his fingers. With his other hand, he tried to detach the sticky strings, but the goo clung to his sleeve too. He glared at the mess.

"You should know me better than that," he said, looking at her sideways, clenching his bruised fists. The goo squished between his fingers. It felt disgusting. "It doesn't matter how much they beat the crap out of me. I don't give up."

She smiled. "I didn't think so."

A moment of silence passed. Several cars drove by. Life drifted on peacefully without disturbance. What a boring day.

"Your father proposed to me," Rukia said suddenly. "Again."

Ichigo rolled his eyes. Why was his father such a moron? Ichigo could make his own decisions. After all, he was going off to college soon.

"Crazy bastard. That's the second time this week," he said. "Sorry. You beat him up, right?"

Rukia laughed. "No, Karin did. That little girl packs quite a punch!" Then her expression softened. "You're family's happy, but I think they're getting anxious for you. You'll be leaving for college soon. It'll be a big change for everyone."

Of course his family was anxious. Hell, _he _was anxious. Graduation was in a week. High school would be over, which meant a new chapter in his life was about to begin. Yet despite all he had been through as a Death god, the uncertainty of what was to come seemed a bit frightening. Well, it was just a _little _bit frightening.

Unable to admit his tiny fear, he looked around for something to clean his hands with.

"I don't care," he said. "It's not an excuse for him to beg _you _to marry _me_. There's no reason to act so…immature."

Rukia took a wet wipe from her pocket, grabbed his hands, and gently wiped the gum away. "Do you always carry those with you?" Ichigo asked. He didn't even flinch as Rukia ran the cold cloth over his battered hands.

Rukia smiled. "It's a girl thing."

- - -

It wasn't eavesdropping. Not really. They were just crouched behind a dumpster across the street, listening to Ichigo's conversation with Rukia. Okay, so they _were_ eavesdropping. Well, it was more like spying, but as friends and fellow Death gods, they were supposed to be caught up on each other's lives. Weren't they?

Besides, if anything it was Ichigo and Rukia's fault for keeping their relationship so subtle. The romance was present in the most silent, imperceptible way. Matsumoto was more than positive. What was it Ishida had called it? Oh, right, it was the 'phantom romance.'

So naturally, Matsumoto was just dying to know the truth. After all, Rukia had been living in Ichigo's house for three years. What other reasons did Rukia have for remaining with the humans?

"Rukia is watching over the town. After all the trouble we've had here, we felt it was necessary," said Hitsugaya, as if he had read her mind. "And _we_ shouldn't be spying. It's rude."

Matsumoto waved him off. "Oh, honestly, we're their friends, and as friends, it is our duty to be there for them. We can't help sort out their problems if we don't have the inside scoop."

"That's an idiot's logic," said Hitsugaya. "If they wanted us to know they would have said something already—"

"Be quiet, I can't hear!"

She had to strain her ears to hear what Rukia was saying, "Your father purposed to me…"

Matsumoto's mouth dropped open. She sucked in a lungful of air. She whirled around to her captain. "Did you hear that? _Tell me you just heard that!_"

"It is odd," Hitsugaya admitted hesitantly. "But we haven't heard the whole conversation. We can't jump to conclu—"

_"B__e quiet!" _

Rukia went on, but unfortunately, Matsumoto could only catch fragments of the conversation: "You're family's happy…but they're getting anxious…you'll be leaving…it'll be a big change for everyone."

Matsumoto heard Ichigo scoff. "I don't care…marry _me_."

The whole universe came to screeching halt.

"Oh. My. Word."

Hitsugaya frowned. "No way," he said dubiously. "There's no way Ichigo just—"

They both watched as Rukia reached over and took a hold of his hands. She said something, and Matsumoto could just barely make out the line of a smile on her lips.

"What did she say?" Matsumoto hissed. "What did Rukia say? My word! Did she say yes? Did she say no? Could it be an unrequited love? But no, look they're holding hands! Oh my word, it's a _love triangle! _HolyShin_—_"

Hitsugaya suddenly clapped a hand over her mouth. "Shut up, you idiot or they'll hear you!" he whispered. He dragged her behind the dumpster and out of site. "Now, listen to me carefully. I forbid you to say anything to anyone about what we just heard. Do you hear me? Matsumoto, you are to pretend like you didn't hear anything. _You__ have__ heard nothing!"_

"But—"

"Matsumoto this is serious! If you go telling people about what we just heard, it'll start a whole mess of rumors. Think what'll happen if Byakuya hears about this! We don't even know what's really going on so _j__ust leave it alone!" _

Matsumoto hung her head. "How terrible," she said. "Poor Rukia. A young girl caught between a father and son!" She buried her face in her palms. "And I can't even be there to help!"

"Rukia isn't exactly a child," Hitsugaya said. "She can take care of herself. If she has a problem, she'll handle it on her own. That much I have faith in."

* * *

**A/N:** And so, seeds of a rumor have been planted. I loved writing the second half. I am having so much fun. I apologize for any misspellings and typos. I need to contact my beta reader…next chapter. Review please!


	2. And It Spread Like Bamboo

**A/n: **I would like to thank Al May for her wonderful prompts and plot discussions. I would also like to thank everyone who reviewed. Anyways, happy reading.

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TWO:

And It Spread Like Bamboo… 

"SIR!"

"SIR!"

Ukitake took a sip of the soothing tea. It was cold and strong, just how he liked it. The tea had that smooth nutty aroma he enjoyed, and the coldness helped him relax. The cicada sang loudly, but not as loudly as the screeching of Ukitake's two most loyal squad members.

"SIR!"

"_UKITAKE_, SIR!"

Great gods, they were causing a riot! He appreciated their enthusiasm, really, he did. Their rivalry ensured that even the most tedious task was fulfilled (when it didn't end in disaster). Yet, it was nearly midnight and they were sprinting towards his quarters, full speed, stretching their vocal cords beyond natural frequency.

Ukitake sighed and braced himself.

The door burst open. Kiyone and Sentarō stumbled through with a loud crash. Literally tripping over one another, they scrambled to their feet, and saluted.

"Sir," Santaro panted. "We hate to bother you like this, but we have some incredibly strange news! Rukia—"

"—she's having a _phantom romance!" _Kiyone cried.

Ukitakeblinked. He lowered the ceramic cup. "A phantom romance?"

"Yeah," said Santaro. "Matsumoto just told us. She's having an affair with a ghost!"

Kiyone smacked the back of his head. "No, you moron, it means she's having a _secret _romance!" She rolled her eyes and muttered with disgust, "Men."

Ukitakewas patient, for the sake his subordinates. "This doesn't seem like an emergency," he said.

"Oh, but sir," Kiyone said, "Rukia's doing something strange in the human world—"

"She's secretly getting married—"

"—to Ichigo!"

"But she's _already _married—"

"—to Ichigo's _father_! His _father!_"

"And—"

Ukitake silenced them by holding up his hand. He was tired, and it was much too late for this nonsense. "Do you respect Rukia?"

They frowned, exchanging glances. "Well, of course," Kiyone said.

Sentarō straightened up. "_I _respect her more."

"No you don't! I—"

"The point is," Ukitake said, "that if you have any respect for Rukia, you will wipe your hands of this idle gossip."

They both blinked. "You don't believe it?"

"Of course not. This doesn't sound anything like Rukia. Consider your source. Was it reliable?"

"Well," Kiyone hesitated. "Matsumoto _was _a little tipsy but she said Hitsugaya heard—"

"If you didn't hear it from Rukia," Ukitake said quickly, "then please abandon this absurdity."

Although somewhat disappointed, they quickly agreed, and he dismissed them for the evening.

As the sounds of squabbling slowly fading away, Kushiro noticed a member from the fourth division lingering at the door, medical bag in hand. "Is there something the matter?" Ukitake asked.

"I just heard a bunch of noise," the man said, shifting uncomfortably. He glanced over his shoulder, into the darkness. "And with you being sick and all, I thought something was wrong. You're feeling alright?"

"I'm fine tonight, thank you," he said. "There's nothing out of place here."

"We're not far if you need anything."

"Yes, of course."

At last, he was left alone. The cicada's song filled the empty night. Ukitake sighed and returned to his tea.

- - -

The man returned to his house. He was still very troubled by what he had overheard. He set the medical bag down at the door. Then settling down in bed he said to his wife, "He's fine, dear. But I heard the strangest thing."

Beneath the covers, his wife replied, "Tell me about it."

"You know who Rukia Kuchiki is, right? I heard she's a polygamist."

- - -

Hitsugaya stopped in the middle of the street, and mentally prepared himself. "Alright," he said. "Spill it, Matsumoto. Who'd you tell?"

Matsumoto turned on her heal. She marched over to a rose bush, bent over, and admired the lush blossoms. "My, what pretty flowers! They're coming in nicely this year, don't you think?"

"Matsumoto!"

She sighed. "I really did try to keep it a secret," she said, pressing her fingers together and digging the toe of her shoe into the dirt. "But it seems that even one glass of wine will loosen a tight tongue."

Hitsugaya glowered, although he was hardly surprised. "Who did you tell?"

"I seem to have forgotten to fill out some paperwork."

"You _always_ forget to do your paperwork," Hitsugaya snapped. "_Who did you tell?_"

Matsumoto muttered something.

"What was that?"

"Kiyone and Sentarō!" Matsumoto cried. "I didn't mean to tell them! It's just that they asked me how Rukia was doing and, well, it just sort of slipped."

Hitsugaya took a deep breath. The Kuchiki reputation was screwed. This was bound to cause some unwanted trouble.

"Bamboo," he said, "is a troublesome weed. From a single shoot, bamboo grows wherever it pleases. It can ruin the most beautiful rose garden, and it can even uproot a slab of concrete. That is why the gardener prefers to raise them in pots." He glared at his lieutenant. "You, Matsumoto, have just planted a sprig of bamboo!"**

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A/n: **Yes, I'm done! And so the rumor grows! Review please. 


	3. A Misinterpretation

**THREE:**

A Misinterpretation

There was rain outside of the auditorium, and rain on the inside too. Both were quite noisy. The sobs of parents and little sisters ricocheted off the walls while families and relatives awaited the ceremony. The realization that school was officially over did not hit Ichigo until Rukia swatted the back of his head.

"Ichigo, you slob," she said, and began to button his cuffs, rolling the hems over several times, and flattening them out neatly. "There are hundreds of people out there. You can't present yourself to the world like this."

He scoffed. "You should talk," he said. "You're the one wearing jeans to graduation."

Rukia did not look up at him. She gently turned his hands over, examining the fading bruises. She always did that, turn his hands over thoughtfully. Her tone went soft, "I'm not graduating with you. You're walking alone."

Ichigo frowned. "But you've been going to school for three years, and you've completed everything— "

"I've asked them to take my name off the program."

"But— " He saw that there were people staring. _Lots_ of people were staring. Someone snickered.

"But Kuchiki-san," Inoue said loudly. "You deserve a diploma too."

Rukia smiled reassuringly. "I don't belong to this world," she said. "So, there really is no reason for me to intrude on your achievements." She released Ichigo's hand and took a step backward, placing between them a lonely and desolate gap. "I'm sorry, but you're walking alone today." She wished them both good luck and told Ichigo to straighten his tie, and then she was gone. 

Standing there, alone in the middle of the band room, with just Inoue, it felt so lonely. Yet, standing there, with his graduating classmates all clustered near the walls, it also brought a sense of independence.

Ah, now he understood.

Straightening his shoulders, Ichigo turned to a defeated Inoue and said, "Don't look so glum. Rukia's got her reasons."

"But without a diploma, she can't come to college with us."

Ichigo shrugged, rubbing the sore lump on his head. "Yeah, but it won't matter. She'll come eventually. She always does, doesn't she?"

- - -

"Please," Matsumoto said, sitting at the Uruhara's table. "Please tell me what's going with Rukia and Ichigo."

Uruhara gave her a funny look. She really wasn't supposed to be here, but she just _had _to know what was going on. If Rukia was involved in a three-some romance, then surely Uruhara would know.

"What do you mean?"

"I heard something strange." She then told him all about the things she had heard last week. Of course she was breaking the rules just being there. And yes, she wasn't supposed to talk about it, but hadn't she already spilled the beans? Matsumoto had started all those horrible rumors, and she was determined to find out the truth.

By the time she was finished, Uruhara was wearing an oily smile.

"I see," he said. "Rukia hasn't told anyone about the ceremony has she?"

Matsumoto gapped. "What is it? Is she really walking down the aisle with Ichigo?"

"Oh yes," said Uruhara. "I don't know why you weren't told. They're walking today in fact."

She gasped. Heaven and hell, it was true! "T-today? The ceremony's _today?_"

Uruhara's lips twitched. "Yes, yes. About time, don't you think?"

"Oh, lordy!" She stood up. "Excuse me, but I have to hurry!"

"Don't forget a present," Uruhara called as she left the shop. He was half laughing. "It's traditional to give presents at this ceremony!"

- - -

"Give it a rest already," Karin told her sniffling sister as Rukia came to join them. "He's graduating and no amount of tears will stop him."

Taking her seat next to a sobbing Yuzu, Rukia smiled. "Hey," she said, pointing to a boy Yuzu's age. "Isn't that the boy you adore?"

The tears stopped almost instantly. Yuzu clapped her hands over her mouth and gave a small gasp. Her shoulders lifted, her eyes glittered. She was practically picked up off her chair by the mere sight of that boy.

Karin rolled her eyes. "His sister's graduating today too."

Yuzu nodded and sighed through her fingers. "He's so nice," she said. "And he has a nice smile." Then she turned to Rukia. "Rukia? Can I…can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

Yuzu hesitated, glancing back at the boy. "What do you like best in a boy?"

Well, it was certainly a surprising, if not awkward, question to answer. The old chair creaked as Rukia shifted uncomfortably. She stared at her knees, thinking and smoothing out the creases in her jeans.

"Truthfully?" An unexpected smile crept across her lips. "His hands. I love his hands…strong, bruised hands."

"Oh yes!" cried a cheerful voice from behind. "Strong hands are _always _a plus in a man!"

Rukia whirled around, mortified.

To her utter horror, she found Matsumoto standing behind them, wearing a frilly pink dress. She was dressed for what appeared to be an exceedingly formal occasion, like a wedding or a cocktail party. Her large breasts were spilling over the lacy pink bodice, and she was carrying a semi-large package under her arm.

"M-Matsumoto," Rukia stuttered. "What are you doing here?"

Matsumoto laughed and tossed a handful of sakura petals in Rukia's face. They fluttered lazily in the air.

"You're so silly," said Matsumoto. "I'm here for the ceremony, of course. I wouldn't have missed it for the world."

Rukia did not remember telling anyone in Soul Society about graduation. "How did you…"

Matsumoto laughed again. "Uruhara told me," she said. "I heard about you were walking down the aisle today, so I asked him and he said. 'Oh yes, they're walking alright!'" She paused. "And then he sort of laughed."

Before Rukia could say anything, Matsumoto shoved the package into arms. "Here, I bought you a gift for your new life! It's not much, but I had to hurry to get here on time. I only _just _found out!"

The package was wrapped in pearly white paper imprinted with little wedding bells, and furnished with a big, golden bow. Rukia stared up at Matsumoto, in all her lacy pink glory. What the hell was going on?

"Matsumoto— "

Matsumoto leaned in and whispered, "It's called a blender."

Rukia stared at the package. "Why are there wedding bells— "

Matsumoto laughed. "It's only suitable for the occasion," she said. "It is, after all, your wedding."

"_Wedding_!"

"Uruhara said you were walking with Ichigo today. Honestly, dear, I can't believe you weren't going tell anyone— "

Suddenly, Rukia realized what was going on. Her face was burning red. She leapt to her feet, seething and mortified. "First of all," she said, "Do you I _look _like I'm getting married?"

"Well, I _was _wondering about your choice of attire, but Uruhara said— "

"You idiot, he was talking about walking at the _graduation!_" She shoved the package back into Matsumoto's lacy arms. "I can't _believe _you would gossip with Uruhara, of all people!"

Matsumoto blinked. "So, you're not getting married?"

_"Hell no!" _

Matsumoto gave a small 'Oh' sound. She appeared to be very disappointed. Then the lights suddenly dimmed and the auditorium grew quiet. The rain clattered heavily on the roof.

"It's starting," Karin said. She smirked, looking up at Matsumoto. "You should hurry and go find a seat."

"Yes…yes, I think I will." She gave Rukia an apologetic look. "We can talk afterwards, right?"

"Oh, we'll talk alright," Rukia muttered. "Talk about your lack in communication skills."

The sound of rain and sobbing little sisters filled her ears. She brushed a sakura petal out of her hair; it fluttered to the ground. Then, as the first speaker stepped up to the podium, a dreadful thought occurred to Rukia: What if Nii-sama heard about the 'ceremony' too?

* * *

**A/n: **Well, this was incredibly fun to write. I hope you enjoyed another misunderstanding, and with those rumors running around there's bound to be a few more mix ups. Don't forget to review! I would love to hear what you think. 


	4. The Biker

Prompts: Blue, bicycle, and picture.

A/N: You better enjoy this chapter because I wrote six different versions. I am not writing another chapter Four. EVER. Also, because this chapter is so long, I'm splitting The "Biker" escapade into two parts. So, yeah. Please review if you can. Thanks to everyone who had reviewed! **

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**

FOUR:

**The "Biker"**

**Part One**

The thing was old and rusty.

It was constructed of two wheels connected by many polished bars, a seat-like cushion, a turning front bar, and a revolving chain. She knew that it was a mode of transportation; humans rode them on the streets, mounted on the cushiony seat-thing, while rotating the chain wheel with their feet. Yet, she had never seen one up close before.

This complicated contraption looked dangerous.

"It's called a bike," Ichigo said, wheeling the wobbly mechanism out of the garage. "Have you ever ridden one before?"

Rukia shook her head, eying the rusty 'bike' curiously. She touched the handle bar and discovered that it moved. "Fascinating."

He laughed at her, leaning the bike against the house. "The tires are flat," he said. "I'll have to put some air in them."

"Air?"

Ichigo laughed again. He was in an odd mood today. He'd been saying strange things all day. "You have to fill the tires with air, or the bike won't move well."

She blinked. Compared to the bikes she saw people riding, with the polished paints and metal pieces, this wobbly contraption was outdated. "You're going to _ride_ this old thing?"

He began rummaging through several boxes. "Yeah, if I can salvage it."

"Why?"

He looked up from a box of junk. "I don't have money for a car," he said. "So when I go to college, this is how I'll get around the city. All it needs is some polish, maybe a new chain, and some WD 40."

Rukia's enthusiasm perished at the word 'college.' She had come to abhor the word, because she was stationed in Kakura Town, and 'college' was in a different city. Now that high school was over, what was she supposed to do when all her friends left for 'college?'

Ichigo found a blue can, turned over the bike, and propped it upside down. Then he sprayed the bike down with grease, cranking the pedals in circles until the bike's metallic joints no longer creaked and groaned.

Finally, he said something, "So, what are you going to do with everyone gone?"

Sitting herself across from him, Rukia watched his distorted image through the revolving spokes. She shrugged. "What I'm supposed to do— slay Hollows and watch over the town."

"You're gonna be bored out of your mind." He stopped moving the pedals, letting the back wheel whiz around and around. "The closet will be empty if you change your mind."

An odd statement, in fact, it was quite suspicious. "Since when _don't_ you care if I— "

"I am not inviting you to take over my dorm." He gave her a flat and serious look. "I'm just stating a fact. The closet will be empty."

A silence passed between them. The rear wheel whizzed around and around. "Hey, Ichigo?"

"What?"

"Is it hard to ride a bike?"

"It depends on how much you're willing to fall." Ichigo stopped the revolving wheel with his hand. What was that wicked grin for? "Wanna learn?"

She folded her arms neatly across her chest, thinking up the image of the street bikers, how their bikes smoothly glided across the cement with great ease. "It can't be _that _hard."

- - -

Riding a bike was not easy. She was bruised and battered. Her legs were skinned and bleeding, and there was a giant bruise on her thigh. Rukia had fallen a dozen times, but she was not going to give up now.

"Don't let go," she said, as Ichigo took hold of the handle bar.

He smiled. Rukia suspected he was enjoying her pain. "I won't."

"Yes, you will."

"I said I won't."

"But you will."

"Do you want to learn or not?"

She hesitated. She really, _really_ wanted to learn how to ride the bike. "Promise?"

"Promise."

Liar.

Ichigo helped her balance the bike as she placed her feet on the pedals. "Ready?"

No. "Don't let go."

He smiled. Crap. What had she gotten herself into?

While Ichigo ran beside her helping to balance the bike, she pedaled. Then, all of the sudden, when she was at full speed, he said, "Okay, I'm going to let go now."

"You _said _you wouldn't."

"I lied."

"You bastard— " But Ichigo had already let go. He even gave her a little (okay, a huge) push.

The bike wobbled a little, but Rukia held the handle bars firmly and pedaled like she had never pedaled before. That was all she thought about: pedaling and staying alive. If she fell at this speed, she would definitely eat cement.

For about ten feet, she rode smoothly without falling. She laughed. She was actually riding a bike!

Then, suddenly, there was a loud _zip_ and the bike stopped on a dime. There was no time to react. In a flash, she was sent over the handlebars and slammed into the pavement.

"Rukia!"

For a long moment, she lay on the cold pavement, stunned and out of breath.

"Rukia! Hey!"

Finally, Rukia moaned and sat up. Pain shot through her ankle. Her shoe was attacked to the chain by the shoe laces, and her foot was twisted an uncomfortable angle. Great. Now how was she going to learn to ride a bike? Ichigo scowled. "You moron," he said, kneeling beside her. "You're supposed to make sure your shoes are tied _before _you get on the bike. That's like the Number One Law of Bike Riding!"

Number One Law of Bike Riding? Ha!

"Moron? _I'm _the moron?" She glared at him. "You're the idiot teacher. You said you wouldn't let go and you _did!_"

He rolled his eyes and removed the shoe. He was not gentle with her tender ankle either. "That's how everybody learns," he said, untangling the shoelaces. "Are you alright or not?"

She scowled. "Fine."

Ichigo tried to examine her ankle, but she pushed him off. He sighed. "We should call it quits for today."

"Not yet."

"You can't keep going."

"Oh, yes I can. Just watch me. I'll— "

"No you can't." He thrust a finger at the front wheel, which was now bent awkwardly. "You screwed up the wheel."

Her spirits sank with disappointment. "Oh." Rukia sighed and stood up. She cringed at the pain in her ankle, and at the pain infecting the rest of her bruised body. Ichigo tried to help her again, but she fought him off. "I'm still mad at you."

So she limped home, and swore that when Ichigo fixed the front wheel, she get back on the bike and try again.

- - -

Inoue was cautious of many things, but she was extra careful of motorcyclists. You know, the burly men in leather jackets who keep their faces hidden behind bushy beards and dark sunglasses, who ride around town, showing off those noisy, masculine Harleys.

Motorcyclists.

Those were people Inoue avoided, and those were the people who pulled up into the parking lot as she made her way to the check out.

She heard them before she even saw them. _Bruuuuuuuuummmm, bruuuuummmm….brrruuuumm!_

"Don't worry," said the clerk. "They don't cause trouble. They're just noisy."

Inoue nodded, although she was not too convinced.

The clerk stopped ringing up the vegetables. "Is that…is that a phone?"

Inoue looked around. She heard the chirpy ring and realized that it was her own cell phone. "It's mine," she said, glancing at the ID, and then frowned. "Kurosaki-kun…"

Why was he calling? Was something wrong? Was there a Hollow around? She stared at the phone. Fighting Hollows was a dangerous business. What if someone had gotten hurt?

"Who's that?"

Inoue ignored her and answered. She tried to sound confident, "Y-Yes?"

"Inoue?" Sure enough, it was Kurosaki-kun, but there something uncertain, possibly even frustrated, about his voice. 

"Hello."

"_I hate to bother you like this, but…um…can we borrow your healing abilities for a bit?" _

She fumbled for her wallet. "Is someone hurt?"

Kurosaki-kun hesitated. _"Rukia sort of screwed up her ankle, but she's fine," _he added quickly just as Inoue let out a loud gasp. _"We were uh…well, she sucks at riding a bike." _

Inoue's eyes widened. She glanced at the burly bikers outside, caped in leather jackets, leaning against their Harleys while smoking giant cigars. "You mean…like a _bike-bike? _Like— like the kind that makes lots of noise?"

He sort of laughed. _"Trust me; Rukia makes plenty of noise when she rides." _

Inoue snatched another look at the bikers outside. She tried to picture Kuchiki-san riding a Harley, caped in a leather jacket and maybe a leather skirt, with big leather high-healed boots, smoking a cigar, and painted up in hostile-looking tattoos. A discomforting image. Inoue despised it.

"Kurosaki-kun…where did Kuchiki-san get a bike?"

"Well, it was my bike…"   


Bruuuuuummmm….bruuuuuuummmm!

Another gasp. "When did you get one? I-I thought you couldn't afford a car…"

The motorcyclists howled with laughter.

_"Well, it's been sitting in my garage forever, so I thought I pull it out. Then Rukia wanted to learn how to ride it and she totally wiped out…" _

Totally wiped out…

Suddenly, the image of Kuchiki-san in her leather skirt, lying in a hospital bed, all bandaged up, flashed through her mind. Her motorcycle was somewhere smashed into a telephone pole.

"Don't worry, Kurosaki-kun," Inoue said quickly. "I'll be right there."

This was definitely a strange development. Kurosaki-kun and Kuchiki-san were such a strange pair. "Can you hurry?" she asked the clerk. "My friend's been in a motorcycle accident and she's very hurt."

The clerk blinked. She glanced at the motorcyclists. "You mean in like…a _motorcycle _accident?"

"Yes, _hurry _please_!" _

Silently, Inoue promised that she would do everything she could to help this new leather caped Kuchiki-san, because that was what friends were for.

- - -

Ichigo stared at the woman standing on his porch. He was horror struck at the very sight of a living dinnosaur. She was a gangly little thing, with a big nose and dark, stringy hair. In her hand she wielded a blue notebook and a No. 2 pencil. He had expected Inoue, not this…this…_freak_ in the purple suit.

"Who the hell are _you?_"

The woman sniffed the air, put her shoulders back, and said as if she were some grand aristocrat, "I am Mira Trident of the Dragonfly Times."

She waited, as if expecting a wholesome greeting.

Ichigo blinked. "Dragonfly Times?" he repeated. "Wait, you're a _reporter?_"

Mira Trident looked offended. "That's what I said. What sort of tomfool has yet to hear of me, Mira Trident of the Dragonfly Times?"

"The Dragonfly Times," he repeated slowly. "Isn't that a woman's tabloid or something?"

Mira Trident sucked in a bunch of air through her oversized nose and pursed her pale lips. "The Dragonfly Times is a weekly paper written strictly for women, by women, and about women," she huffed, looking him up and down disapprovingly. "I don't expect dullard beefcake like you to understand."

"Beefcake? Beefcake?" The reporter pushed past him and into the clinic. Ichigo whirled around. "Did you just call me a _beefcake?" _

Mira flicked her eyes toward the ceiling and made a disgusted sound. "Men are twats," she muttered. "Now, where is this girl I heard about? The one who was in the motorcycle accident. I believe an interview is in order, so if you would at least muster up a bit of..."

This woman was absolutely ridiculous. He wanted her gone as soon as possible, away from his house and family. Ichigo pointed to the door. "Out," he barked.

"Excuse me?"

"I said, _out_. Get your purple ass out of my house. _Now." _

Mira's laugh was high and piercing. "My, what a limited caliber you have. I'll try this again." She cleared her throat. Then, she spoke each word loudly and one by one: "The. Girl. Who. Was. In. The. Motor-bike. Accident. Where. Is. She?"

Ichigo's temper was going haywire. "I don't know what _the hell_ you're talking about. No girl was brought here today. Leave now."

Mira Trident sighed impatiently and looked him square in the eye. She waved a skinny finger in his face. "My cousin-in-law is employed at a grocer mart, and she heard tale of a most terrible cycling accident involving some girl. Now, I write on behalf of all women in Kakura Town, so naturally the story of a female biker involved in a serous crash is not only interesting, but moving." She placed a hand over her flat chest. "It's _touches _our hearts in a sad and inspiring manner."

Bikers…wait a minuet. Suddenly, as ridiculous as it seemed, it clicked. "Are you talking about _Rukia?" _

Mira straightened up. "Rukia? Is that her name?"

"Well, yeah, but— "

"So you _do _know her! Well, where is she? Come on, speak up boy. This is front page material!"

To Ichigo's utter dismay, Rukia chose to limp into the hallway at the moment. "Hey," she said. "Yuzu says lunch is…" Her eyes fell on Mira. She looked from Mira to Ichigo. "Who the _hell_ is she?"

Mira straightened up again. She marched over to Rukia and shook her hand (it was unrequited handshake).

"I am Mira Trident of the Dragonfly Times," she said loudly. "You look like an intelligible girl. I'm looking for someone named 'Roo-ki-aw.'"

Rukia looked at Ichigo questioningly. He mouthed 'don't do it,' and yet she still said, "That would be me. What do you want?"

Mira beamed. "Wonderful, simply wonderful!" She looked Rukia up and down. "I see the accident wasn't as serious I thought…a little bruised and…limping. Poor dear. You're feeling alright?"

Rukia looked down at scrapped up knees and swollen ankle. There was a great purple-black bruise stretching across her thigh.

"It's nothing serious," said Rukia. "I've seen much worse than this." She glared at Ichigo. She still had not forgiven him.

Mira Trident flipped open her blue note book and began scribbling down notes. "I see. So you have some experience. Tell me, as a woman, why did you start riding?"

"It looked like fun and lots of people ride bikes so I— "

"— I see, I see, and what do you feel that motorcycling is limited to the male stereotype?"

Rukia laughed. "Male stereotype?" she said. "I'm wearing a _dress_, lady."

"I see no leather…actually you look quite sweet for a Mad Hog."

Ichigo snorted.

Mira nodded. "Do you think in the future that women can overcome the negative pigeonhole concerning female bikers? Or as you young people might say, 'screw the leather?'"

Finally, Ichigo's temper went haywire. "Sorry, strike three, you're outta here, _goodbye_!"

Ichigo seized Mira Trident by the collar of her atrociously purple, pin stripped suit and dragged her (cursing and uttering insulting things) out of the clinic. He threw her into the street and oddly enough, she landed right next to his bent up, rusty old bicycle. Then he slammed the door shut.

"That was mean," Rukia said. "You didn't have to be so rough."

"Whatever. I just saved your reputation."

He slid the dead bolt into place.

Thank God.

At last, they were safe from the barmy Mira Trident.

* * *

**A/n: **Mira Trident and the Dragonfly Times were named by the great Al May. Anyways, don't forget to review please. I usually don't write stuff like this, but whatever. Thank you to everyone who actually finished this chapter! 


	5. The Phantom Romance

**A/n: **Well, to be honest, this was sort of a random chapter that took three months to write…but phantoms and apparitions do what the please when they please, don't they? Anyways, I felt the need to explain the 'phantom romance,' although I guess the haunting has already revealed itself. Plus, I felt guilty for not updating in so long.

Thank you for your patience. Um, R&R please?

* * *

**The Phantom Romance**

Great thunder gods, they were blasted. Plastered. Nailed. Three sheets to the wind. Whatever the Captain called their state of utter crapulence.

"So," Shunsui slurred. "Not that I _really _care, but tell me again what it means…" He lifted the flask to take another swig, and hiccuped mid-swallow. Wine was sprayed all over the table, but nobody really noticed.

Matsumoto's arm flapped dismissively in the air. "How many times must I say it?" She leaned forward, trying not puke or fall out of her chair for that matter. "Phantom romance is _exactly _what it says…the romance _itself_ is a phantom."

Shunsui shook his head; his cheeks were almost as flushed as Matsumoto's hair. "I still don't get it."

The thing about wine was that after the third or fourth bottle, a person's level of comprehension began to deteriorate, fall a part brain cell after brain cell, and the ability to speak properly was also disoriented. The cup was slammed roughly onto the table. A little bit of precious wine drizzled down the ceramic sides.

"The romance is exactly like a haunting," she said a little too loudly. "At first when you move in, you dunno it's even there, until a lotta little weird crap starts happening. You hear a weird banging noise, suspicious gestures, the whispery conversations…none of it ever makes sense…" She swallowed a lump of air. "And you don't have enough proof to say there is one _until _one day, you walk around the corner and _whoosh!" _

Matsumoto threw her arms in the air, a dramatic gesture that nearly threw her off the chair. "And there it is the phantom romance! It swoops down from the rafters and scars the boobs out of your nightshirt! But before you can do anything, it's gone— disappeared like it ever existed."

Then she reached over, snagged the last flask, and took one final swig.

**- - -**

To think that something like that would have happened to him on the front lawn of a public pool. If anything, it was half Rukia's fault for being the evil little magician she was, and half the city's fault for choosing to include a pool in its geography.

That was where Ichigo found her, sitting at the pool's edge, dipping her feet into the cool water. Her eyes were lost in thought, lit up by silver moon beams refracting off the pool's silent surface.

"What the hell are you doing here," he asked, making her jump a little. "It's almost midnight."

She whirled around and then refused to look at him as he sat down beside her. "I was just thinking," she said, lifting a slender ankle out of the water. Inoue had been late, with traffic and what not, but she had arrived eventually.

"About what?"

Rukia shrugged. She had that lost look in her eyes again, like she wasn't quite sure what to do with herself. She had been wearing that expression off and on all day, ever since Inoue brought up the subject of college.

Since he couldn't stand Rukia all chocked up on that angst lump of self pity, he decided to fix it. Do something totally outrageous to make her scream at him, slap him around a few times, and maybe get answer out of her.

Reaching around, he placed the flat of his palms over her kidneys. He felt her tense against his touch as he slowly slid his hands down along her back, fingers cupped around her waste as they smoothed the seams of her yellow dress, slowly and gently traveling south.

Down and down and down.

He could have slid his hands past her hips and along the inertial walls between her thighs, like he was tempted to do. Even though she really would have slapped him for that, it would have defeated the purpose. So he stopped at her hips, paused, twisted the cotton hems in his fingers, and with a single heave he shoved her into the pool.

Rukia hit the water's surface like a nuclear bomb— loudly and with a mushroom shaped splash.

Ichigo watched her gurgle under the water, burst through the surface open mouth and gasping, and laughed.

Rukia whipped around. Dark stringy hair clung to her face. When she was done coughing and sputtering, she glared at Ichigo. "What the hell was that for?" she demanded.

"That's what we call drowning your sorrows," he answered bluntly. "Midget."

"You asshole!" Still floundering around in the deep end, she grabbed onto the edge.

Good, it worked. He had her complete, cursing, and undivided attention. He folded his arms over his chest. "At least now you're too pissed to mope around in that stupid pity party."

"Pity party? Pity party?"

She slapped her hands onto the concrete and pulled herself up, fuming. "You jerk," she said, "I wasn't having a pity party, stupid, I was thinking about _you._"

"Wait, what—"

She raised her fist and yanked it back to smash her tiny knuckles into his nose, but she stopped herself. "You're not even worth hitting." She lowered her hand.

That was about as good as a punch to the face. Ichigo threw her into the pool and this was the thanks she gave him? "You ungrateful little—"

"Midget," Rukia finished, standing up. "Can't you come up with a better insult? You've been calling me that for years. It's almost become cliché."

Well, that was another slap to the pride!

Rukia walked past him. "I'm tired, are you coming?"

He followed her across the lawn, only half reluctantly. Was there really a choice in the matter? If he stayed behind then he would be moping and that would contradict throwing Rukia into the pool. Besides, if he didn't follow she might change out of those wet cloths without him.

Stupid little…little…little…

Damn it, there had to be a heavier insult than midget. Oh, bingo!

"Hey, _Kuckiki,_ wait up will you?"

A crooked smile crept over his lips as Rukia stopped dead in her tracks. She turned without moving her feet. "What did you call me?"

"You heard me, _Kuchiki._"

Who had been slapped now?

"Y-you just called me by my…"

"You're surname," Ichigo finished. "Would you like some _san_ to go with that _Kuchiki? _Or how about a sprinkle of _chan? _Maybe—"

It ended when Rukia calmly raised two fingers to his forehead and shouted, "First restraint, obstruction!"

It was just like last time, on the evening of their very first encounter. Ichigo was instantaneously rendered immobile as invisible hands twisted his arms together, locked uncomfortably behind his back. His ankles clicked together and he stumbled awkwardly to his knees.

"You know what's funny about this, _Kurosaki?_ Even on your knees you're still taller than me." She smiled wickedly, cradling the rim of his jaw with her fingers. Her hands were damp, deathly cold, and she smelled of icy water and wet perfume. "But even so, your arrogant ass is still at my mercy."

She leaned in, as if to kiss him, but stopped as if changing her mind last moment. He could feel the warmth of her breath on his lips, and the touch of her cold cheek brush against his own. Her eyes twinkled brighter than any two stars strewn across the velvet sky. Ichigo's face burned as he noticed that the slope of her breast was even more pronounced under the wet, translucent yellow fabric.

"Unfortunately, the mood has yet to strike me," she whispered before smirking and stepping back a little too quickly. Then she pinched his nose and patted his cheek roughly. "Come one," she said, "don't look so depressed. I'll come back for you in an hour or two."

Way to kill the moment.

"An hour?" he said as she began to walk away. "You're just going to _leave me here?_ Rukia! Hey, come back here! I can understand if you're mad, but at least let me go! _Rukia!_" He tried to hobble after her, but only ended up toppling over face first into the grass.

Her laughter filled the empty courtyard as she stepped into the street, illuminated in the eerie orange glow emitting from a lonely streetlight. "Don't be silly, Ichigo," she called and laughed. "The sprinklers don't come on for another twenty minuets."

"Evil little witch," he muttered.

Clever, seductive little witch. She already had the evil cackle and the demon magic. Slap a few warts across her face and all she needed was a broom and a crooked black hat.

- - -

_And before you can do anything, it's gone— disappeared as if it had never existed. _


	6. Kikanshinki Happy: Backfire!

**Chapter** **Six**

**Kikanshinki Happy: Backfire!**

Rukia stopped in the middle of the crosswalk, her heart skipping a beat. The pressure in the atmosphere shifted as a waft of dry, warm air rippled through the empty streets, making the skin on her arms tingle.

Ichigo's reitsu had just flared. Her eyes widened. She had bound him up with kido and just left him in the middle of a public lawn, unable to move and defend himself. A Hollow could be eating him at that very moment!

It was only a few blocks away so if she hurried — "RUKIA!"

Before Rukia could launch herself into a sprint, Ichigo wheeled around the corner. His cloths were soaking wet, and his aura was raging wildly. He was covered in clumps of broken grassy blades, and there was a smudge of wet soil on his t-shirt. He was irritated and as drenched as Rukia.

How could Rukia have forgotten that he could break out of that restraint?

"Rukia!"

Rukia ducked her head and hurried forward, trying to think of something clever to say. He was going to twist his fingers around her throat, even if he did deserve punishment for shoving her into the pool.

"Hey, I'm talking to you."

Ichigo grabbed her shoulder; his fingers were cold, gripping the brim of her wet collar bone. His tone had gone soft around the edge; Rukia could hear the oncoming of a smirk in his voice, "You can't just try to kiss someone—" he slowly wheeled her around to face him "— and then just chicken out."

At first, Rukia resisted as he pressed his lips against her forehead, brushing against her hairline. However, she quickly succumbed to the smell of wet grass and damp soil. The warmth of his auric energy seeped through her sodden dress, and making the air inside her skirt thick and humid.

He really should learn to control his Reitsu.

He kissed her again on her cheek, lingered, and then finally moved to her lips. She savored it as long as she could, even when a flood of white light filled the street.

_Beep, beep!_

They both jumped and turned to face the twin blaring suns hovering before them in the middle of the street. "Shit, Rukia," Ichigo muttered.

Rukia closed her eyes, wishing that she would melt into a sloppy puddle on the asphalt, and disappear from the grinning man in the front seat. Of all people, why, _why _did it have to be Kurosaki Isshin?

- - -

Ichigo was normally dedicated to protecting his family, but at the moment he was considering the massacre of his father. His sisters didn't help either. The whole way home it was nothing but, "Well, now we know why she insisted with sleeping in his closet." "I hear wedding bells in the near future!" And, "Ichi-nii, why is there grass in your hair?"

That last comment was answered by a grinning Isshin, "Getting dirty on a public lawn, eh?"

Ichigo crossed his arms, flushed, and muttered a few curses. "You wish old man." He glanced at Rukia, who didn't seem too thrilled but at the same time she wasn't wearing a sickly sweet smile either. Her cheeks were burning red and turned even redder with every mortifying comment.

Ichigo scowled. "Aren't you pissed?" he said through clamped teeth. Figures that they were just getting home from Karin's big soccer tournament, even if it was midnight.

Rukia shook her head, staring at her lap. "No."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because," she whispered. "When we get home I can just use kikanshinkito replace their memories."

"Isn't that an abuse of mission aids?"

Rukia gave him a flat and desperate look. "Since when do you care about abusing rules?"

She had a point.

"Rukia-chan, I would be more than happy to deliver your future children—"

The two exchanged red-cheeked glances. "Memory replacementsounds like a great plan," Ichigo said.

"It's really not that complicated—"

"As soon as he parks the car," Rukia agreed, reaching for her pocket where the device was hidden. Until the car came to a complete they would just have to bear with the humiliation.

- - -

She was aroused from the tranquility of sleep as something soft and spongy slid up her leg, grating against the back of her thigh. There was a convulsing lump under the blankets. "Nee-san…"

She propped herself up on her elbow, trying to see in the darkness. "The hell…_ah_!" Rukia shrieked and bolted upright as two tiny paws snaked beneath her nightgown. A felt claw picked at line of her panties.

"KON!"

There was a loud _thunk _as she instinctively pinned Kon to the wall with her foot. Livid, Rukia ground the heel of her foot into the plush's yellow fabricated face. She would make him eat wood molding and smelly sock fabric for his dirty sins.

"You sick…disgusting…little pervert!" Rukia stomped on him once for every word; _thunk, thunk…thunk…thunk, thunk! _

Kon said something, flailing his arms about from under Rukia's foot but whatever it was, it most likely a futile plea for mercy. "I'll kill you for that and don't think I won't—"

The door slid open suddenly. Without a solid backing to support her kicks, Rukia fell out of the closet.

"For God's sake, Rukia," Ichigo said impatiently, "It's three in the morning. What the hell are you doing?"

"You!" She seized Kon and threw him at Ichigo as hard as she could. "You're perverted plushy was groping me in my own bed!"

Ichigo scowled, pulling Kon off his face. "Well, you're the one who's wearing a nightgown."

"I have personal boundaries and they should be respected in life _and _death—"

Kon thrust a felt claw at her. There was a small wad of cotton coming out of the side of his head, where the seam had broken. "You didn't have a problem getting all smoochy with Ichigo in the street last night—"

"Hey! How the hell do you know about that? We blasted everyone's memories—"

"—Except for Kon's," Rukia interrupted, clambering into the closet, searching for the kikanshinki_.  
_

"Rukia?"

"What?"

Ichigo rubbed the back of his neck. "Um…your nightgown…"

With a groan of frustration, Rukia reached behind herself and yanked the white cloth over her exposed bottom. Her stars had definitely drifted off course.

"Here it is!"

In order to use the device properly without it backfiring and missing the intended target, Ichigo had to pin Kon down with his foot. "Nee-san, don't do to this to me," he screeched. "I won't tell—"

"That's just screaming bull shit," Ichigo said. "Does that thing even work on Mod Souls?"

Rukia shrugged. "I've only used it on humans."

"Nee-san!"

"But if it doesn't work we can always resort to more sadistic measures." She pressed the button and there was a small _click _followed by a poof of white smoke. The ducky head swayed on the spring, bouncing back and forth like a grinning Jack-in-the-box. Kon instantly went limp.

"I guess it worked," Ichigo said, removing his foot.

"The replacement memories are random," Rukia said thoughtfully. "I wonder what he'll remember instead." She also wondered what variation of replacement memories Isshin and Ichigo's sisters had received; she had never used kikanshinkifor anything other than Hollow related situations.

Considering that the replacement memories were random an uncontrollable, Rukia hoped that it wasn't anything

- - -

Yoruichi choked on her beverage. She rubbed a finger inside her ear. "Angry what?"

"Sex." Isshin said it like the way someone would say the word 'daisy' or 'flatulence—' with and a small grin and a snicker. "Intercourse. You know, with the uh-uh's and oh-oh's."

Kisuke's fan fluttered a little faster to hide his smirk. Yoruichi closed her eyes.

"I caught them last night, and I have a specific memory of loud voices and irate wall banging— they were terribly embarrassed."

Neither of them believed it. Angry sex just didn't seem like a favorite activity of Ichigo and Rukia, of all people. Besides, Yoruichi and Kisuke both suspected that this 'memory' of catching them 'in action' was a figment of Isshin's wishful imagination.

"That's…" Kisuke trailed off.

"It's asinine," Yoruichi said bluntly. "Ichigo can't even look at a naked woman without blushing. Besides, Rukia's not stupid. Defending a little sister's honor is the goal of every noble big brother. Bya-kun would have a fit."

"Although," Kisuke said from behind his fan. "It appears that he hasn't heard about their 'phantom romance.'"

Yoruichi and Isshin both turned on him. "Phantom what?" they said at the same time.

"The phantom romance," Kisuke said with a hint of amusement in his voice. "Matsumoto came here a few days talking about strange rumors and a phantom romance concerning Ichigo and Rukia. Apparently it's spreading through Soul Society like wildfire."

"Well then why hasn't Byakuya—"

"Maybe he's not around to hear it."

"My son is having a phantom romance? What the hell is a phantom romance?" Isshin said. However, he didn't seem to mind too much; he seemed more bothered by the fact that Kisuke heard about it first.

It might have been a terrible move to have said anything in the first place, but Kisuke thought it would be much better if he explained it rather having Isshin jump to wild conclusions.

Kisuke fanned himself as he spoke, "A phantom romance is a romance that exists, but rarely shows itself to the public. Although it is not particularly an _angry _poltergeist, but the romance itself is a phantom nonetheless. Of course, as with every ghost, there are skeptics and then are the believers."

In other words: Isshin was a hard core believer and Yoruichi was a down to earth skeptic; she could still vividly remember revealing herself to Ichigo for the first time.

"On the other hand," Yoruichi said. "It might be fun to meddle."

Kisuke looked at her inquisitively. "What do you mean?"

"If this ghost does exist, let's drag it out of the attic. Meddle. Tamper. We'll bust this ghost like the ones on TV. I think it would be terrible fun, don't you?" The more she thought about it, the more liked the idea. She would have to do something Byakuya and the college issue, but that minor tasks.

In a time of peace, where there was little conflict between the three worlds, there wasn't much to occupy the attention. It could be interesting, those results, but first thing was first. "Isshin, when was the last time you saw a kikanshinki?"

- - -

**A/n: **Well, I'm not sure what to think of this chapter, but it ties to future plot ideas…and I hope it's at least satisfactory. I really wanted to throw the kikanshinki idea out there for later events, even though a memory Chikan might have been more efficient. Oh well, difficult chapters aren't that uncommon for me.

Thank you reviewers for ideas and Al May for plot discussions. I appreciate it!


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